In this city of dreams
Of Bright lights and pulsating sidewalks,
Splendid wheels and shining glass,
He walks by, oblivious to it all.

His eyes lost in the ground
Ever searching......
For that crumpled bottle to fill his bag
His hungry and poor gunny bag.

His shirt, a patchwork of squalor, filth and lost dreams
Callused hands and wind swept hair
Feet bare, cracked and withered
Hollow eyes shining with ravenous hunger

No dreams for him though
Perhaps a cup of tea and a stale bun for the day.
No hopes for tomorrow
For he is Atlas, born to carry the weight of the privileged

In this city of dreams
Of love, enlightenment and empowerment.
He is,
The Voiceless

Was never a writer, far less a poet
Not even a fan of the written verse
Fighting my demons, my gloom
My life, a quagmire, a curse

Depression, the jealous lover
It doesnt want to let you go
Weaves its lies and stories
Toxic *****, it kills you slow

Floundering in the dark tempest
My boat about to sink
No buoy, beacon or light
A Life was at the brink

My pain put forth in confused lines
thoughts battling impending doom
Dark morbid verses,
Penned in dark claustrophobic rooms

And then discovered a haven
Of imagination, beauty and light
A place of beautiful lines and radiance
I grabbed it with all my might

I am much better today
The writing has set me free
i fly, an Icarus in the blue sky yonder
And I thank you all @ hello poetry

There was once a man
Who looked at the moon and asked
"Is there anything I could ask,
that you can answer?"
There was no reply,
as expected.

The next morning, there was a dog.
The man crouched down
in front of the dog and asked
"What are you up to today?"
The dog walked past,
as expected.

In the afternoon, there was a girl.
She was sitting on a bench in the park.
The man sat beside her and asked
"Are you waiting for someone?"
She kept gazing at the sunset,
as expected.

Night falls in a pub in the city.
There's a drunken man, had many bottles.
The man approached him and asked
"Is something the matter?"
The man finally collapsed after too much drinks,
as expected.

Lastly, in a room there are antiques.
One is a mirror in an intricate frame.
The man looked at the mirror and asked
"How do you feel today?"
There was no reflection,
as expected.